Shades and Hues
by FieryBrunette
Summary: Lily Evans' relationship with James Potter is anything if not colorful. She can't help but watch as he makes his way into her heart, decorating her life with the promise of vibrant shades and hues. L/J. Read and review, please?
1. Pink

**Author's Note: **This being my thirtieth story, I sort of wanted to write something that was a combination of all I like to write about. Romance, humor, pain, the human heart. So, this is a montage of emotions and moments with Lily and James, each one represented by a different color. Please read and review and let me know what you think.

**Disclaimer: **All characters and plot elements belong to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

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She'd never imagined that James Potter was capable of blushing until now. She'd never once fathomed that he was even capable of any emotion remotely close to embarrassment, let alone that such an emotion would show on his features. They'd been dating for a month now—enough time to become familiar with most of his moods and reactions—and yet here was just another example of how easily surprised she was by her boyfriend. Still, never had she imagined that of all the things to make him blush that _this_ would be it.

Minutes ago he'd been rummaging through her book bag, hoping to stumble upon a spare quill as they studied. What he _did_ stumble upon however was no quill. In fact, he seemed to forget the quill as he straightened, clutching an object that would soon become the root of his blush. He didn't say anything, he just stared at Lily, eyes darting uneasily between her and the object.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, James, what are we, twelve?!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air in an exasperated gesture. "It's just a tampon!"

There it was again, a rose colored flush that was accompanied with an embarrassed wince the second she said the word 'tampon', naming aloud the object in his hand. Lily couldn't help but feel amused about all this. After all, shameless flirting and unrequited confessions of love over the years had not embarrassed James one but. Had she known all it took to make him blush was a single object the size of her palm, well, she definitely would have put the method in use sooner.

Because—there was no denying it—James Potter was too cute when he blushed.

"James," Lily said flatly, as he avoided contact, casting his glance at anywhere but her, "Can I ask you something?"

"Er…"

"What am I?"

"Er….red haired and green eyed?"

"Close, but no." Lily sighed. "I'm a girl, James."

"Yeah, so?" He ran his hand unconsciously through his hair, shifting awkwardly on the balls of his feet.

"Girls have periods, James. We use tampons for our periods." She said each word slowly, trying and failing to hide the smile as she watched him squirm where he stood.

"Will you stop it?" He half shouted, his face going from slightly flushed to a vibrant pink, tinged with even deeper rouge in his cheeks. "Stop saying that word!"

"What? Tampon? Period?" She raised her eyebrow, her grin clearly evident now.

"Yes!"

Lily was positively filled with mirth, watching as her boyfriend progressed in a mere matter of seconds from rosy to near crimson. It wasn't just the fact that she'd finally found something that embarrassed him immensely that had her smiling, but also the fact that as he stood there, positively pink in his green Christmas sweater, ratty trainers and jeans, she'd never seen him look so completely innocent. Like the mere mention of the menstrual cycle might make him implode.

Not able to hold it in anymore, she let forth a giggle and said, "Unbelievable."

"What?" He asked uncertainly.

"Oh, nothing," she stood and walked over to him, snatching the tampon and tossing it back in her bag. He looked immensely relieved when she did so, "I just noticed that I'm dating a total and utter prude."

"I am _not_ a prude." He pouted, the color in his cheeks fading slightly as he glared at her.

"James, I can't even say 'tampon' without you turning as pink as a flamingo." Lily replied smoothly, grinning as the fading color came back in one fell swoop.

James didn't reply, he just merely continued to glare as the red head reached forward and pecked his rosy cheeks and equally rosy nose. She laughed when he tried to dodge her and ruffled his hair, a habit picked up from him.

"You're lucky I like you, Evans." He sighed. "I'm sure my embarrassment isn't very manly in this situation."

"Oh, I don't mind your prudy behavior." She smiled up at him, as he continued to look humiliated. "I actually think it's kind of cute."

An understatement, really, but he didn't really need to know that.

"Really?" He grinned now, leaning over and pecking her back on the nose, sort of like a game of tag.

"Only a little cute." She admitted, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him close, noting the adorable blush still lingering in his face.

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**A/N: **Once again, please review! If you have any color requests or ideas for future chapters, let me know!


	2. Grey

**Author's Note: Chapter dedication to alicesporsche617, who requested the color for which this chapter is named for. **

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Her favorite sweater of his was probably the ugliest.

Lily wasn't sure why she liked it, or what was even remotely attractive about the hideous thing, but she couldn't get enough of it. She'd never been aesthetically opinionated, but even a color blind person could see that James' sweater had to be the ugliest.

It appeared on the first day of October, arriving in a clumsily wrapped package from James' mother, who claimed he'd left it at home.

When he pulled it out of the package, she began to wonder if he had left it on purpose, and could totally understand why he would. It was a grey sweater, no fancy buttons or stitching. Nothing to make it unique or special. It was just a plain, dull pre-rainstorm grey of a sweater. It looked like it was undeniably soft as a sweater, but even Lily couldn't stand looking at the thing, let along think about wearing it.

"Ah," James had said, sighing happily as he slipped it over his head and grinned goofily over at Lily, "I knew I'd forgotten something at home."

"You mean you didn't mean to leave it at home?" Lily asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

Rolling his eyes, James helped himself to some porridge and nudged his girlfriend. "Are you kidding me? This is my _favorite_ sweater. I would never purposefully forget it."

The hours James wore The Sweater turned into days, and then weeks. Lily found herself comparing James and his sweater to that of a child and its blankie. Everywhere James went, his sweater went. Oh, sure, he took it off often, but not a day went by where Lily wasn't aware of it sticking out of the corner of James' bag, or tucked under his school robes. She was sure to complain plenty about the sweater, and to constantly point out to James how ugly it was. He, as usual, ignored her.

But as said days turned into said weeks, Lily couldn't help but feel immensely curious about the sweater and its history. Why James seemed so attached to it.

When she casually asked James where he'd gotten it one day, he'd cocked an eyebrow at her and said, "It's growing on you, isn't it?"

It was most certainly not, she pointed out with a glare. But even as she glanced at him, the sweater fitting snugly on his torso, the hideous dishwater grey covering his arms and shoulders, she couldn't help but agree that it was indeed growing on her. Along with a multitude of other things as well.

Like James himself, for example. Not that he particularly needed to know that one. Their relationship was the same as it had been since they started seeing each other over the summer, playful and adventurous. There always new things to learn about James, about his life, about his opinions and habits, and—sort of like that hideous sweater—every day she spent with him increased how much she liked him.

What she didn't like, however, was her own budding obsession over the sweater.

It had started once he hugged her with it on, and she'd buried her face into his shoulder and smelled the sweater. A scent had washed over her so powerful she almost staggered. It was probably the best thing she'd ever smelled. Soap and chocolate chip cookie dough and fresh parchment; it was a smell she'd become familiar with, but had never smelled that strongly until now, _now, _that she stood there with her nose pressed into that soft _soft_ grey sweater. A sweater that embodied James' smell. The smell that she wished she could smell forever, even after he wasn't with her.

And yet, despite the amazing scent and the soft welcoming fuzzy material of the grey sweater, Lily had to stop herself. It was a sweater, for Merlin's sake. Sure, it was soft, and nice smelling, but it was nothing to get worked up over. She told herself this quite firmly, and by the next time she saw the sweater, lying carelessly across James' bedspread in his dorm (James himself being at Quidditch practice) she was sure that she didn't care about that stupid bloody sweater one bit.

She had never expected to find herself reaching over and yanking the cottony item of clothing over her own head, against all reason.

The first thing she noticed was that it was a wee bit large on her. James had a good five inches or so on her, and a great deal more mass in the upper arms than her. She was soon drowning in a sea of dishwater grey, but was too entirely immersed in the scent and feel of the sweater to care. The feather-light fabric caressed her skin and the scent of James washed over her in waves every time she so much as moved.

Smiling to herself and forgetting why she had even come to the dorm in the first place (James had stolen her Transfiguration text book—again—and she'd come looking for it), Lily trotted out the dorm and down the stairs, taking the short cut out the back entrance of the castle and down the Quidditch pitch.

She was sure that her hair clashed terribly with the sweater, but she really was too blissfully happy to care. Eyeing the seven people zooming around their broomsticks and smiling at one in particular with messy hair and glasses that flickered in the afternoon sunshine, Lily walked over and took her seat in the stands.

Moments later James flew over as he usually did when she visited his practices. He usually delivered a quick peck to her cheek while his teammates wolf whistled and cat called, or ruffled her hair playfully as he flew past, nearly giving her a heart attack. But today he simply landed in the stands, leaping of his broom and landing almost gracefully a few bleachers behind her.

She grinned at him. The smudges of dirt on his face, the bruise on his chin (probably from a close call with a Bludger) and the windswept hair, it was all part of the James Potter package that was starting to grow on her. That she was starting to enjoy more than anything else.

"What the hell do you think your doing?" He suddenly blurted, looking bewildered in her direction.

"I always visit you at practice, idiot." She replied. "Or did the team finally gang up on you and get a 'No girlfriends allowed' rule instilled?"

"No, no," James waved a hand through the air, clearing her words, "That's not what I meant. I mean…what the hell are you wearing?"

Lily looked down at herself, at the saggy grey sweater that was hanging loosely about her shoulders like a comfortable dust-grey potato sack.

"Oh." A blush crept up her cheeks and she glanced back up at James, biting her lip. She hadn't expected him to be upset about her borrowing the sweater, but how was she to know? Maybe James had some possessive issues with this particular item of clothing?

"I…erm….I'm sorry, I just…"

"What are you apologizing for?" A small smile flashed across his features. "I just want to know why you're wearing it. I mean, didn't you just call that thing the bane of your existence last week?"

She shrugged. "I guess it just grew on me. I mean, I called _you_ the bane of my existence for years, and now look at us!"

James, leaning casually (and very attractively, she noticed) on his broom, regarded her thoughtfully as she sat and fidgeted in the too-big sweater. His eyes flickered behind the lenses of his glasses and there was a half smile that had her feeling extremely exposed, even with the all-encasing sweater on.

"What I don't understand," he said softly, "Is why the hell you didn't bother wearing it before."

"How about we start with the fact that it's the most hideous thing in the world?" Lily optioned.

"You obviously don't think so."

"Maybe I do."

"Even so," he shrugged thoughtfully, "I kind of like it. There's something oddly pleasing and surreal about seeing you wearing my favorite sweater. Albeit, it _is_the ugliest sweater in the history of hideous sweaters. But I've got to admit…" He paused, before smiling a little wider, looking practically devious, "Seeing you in that sweater Lils is….sort of sexy."

Had it been any other situation, any other sweater, Lily would have ignored the comment, or glared, or retorted back with a snappy comment. But in this case, she was speechless. She just stood there, gaping slightly as her boyfriend leaned forward, pulling her to him by the worn material of the sweater and pressed a smacking kiss to her lips. She was even too speechless to notice that the Quidditch team was back to their routine of hooting and calling out things like 'Get some, Potter!', even as James threw her a wink over his shoulder, hopped back on his Comet Seventy Two and kicked off the bleachers.

After getting control of herself, Lily walked quietly back to the dorms for the evening, waiting until a dirt smudged and windswept James entered the common room to join her for dinner. He didn't bring up the sweater and neither did she. But the implication was there, every time he glanced over at her during dinner and even after as they sat together in the common room and talked. She was almost too flustered by said glances to even return the sweater. She could tell that he probably wouldn't mind if she kept it.

But before the night was over, she'd slipped the sweater off and put it back on his bed where it belonged. She promised herself and James that she would never to put it on again, horrible grey thing that it was.

Much to James' delight and her chagrin, it was a promise too easily broken.

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**A/N: Once again, please review! And if you have a color recommendation, just put it in your review!**


	3. Orange

**A/N: I know it's been ages and I apologize. These last few months have been...crazy. This isn't a lot to offer in compensation for my absence, but hopefully it will start to make up for the lack of updates. Read and review!**

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"You know," James said one morning over breakfast, staring at Lily thoughtfully, "Your hair really isn't that red."

Sirius Black put his head in his hands. "Oh, Christ, here we go again…"

Lily looked up from her own plate of eggs Benedict, arching an eyebrow in his direction. The Great Hall was mostly empty, it being a Saturday morning and all. Save for a few hyperactive Hufflepuffs discussing their latest finds in Wizard War trading cards, there was no one in sight. The entire population of Hogwarts was sound asleep at this early hour of seven AM.

As to why Lily was awake at this God-awful hour, she had not a clue.

Though it probably had something to do with the boy seated across from her, still looking quite seriously at her.

This notion did not cheer her up as it usually would.

"A bit early for philosophical ponderings on my hair, don't you think Potter?" Lily asked, smirking slightly and forking some egg into her mouth. "Remind me again why I get up at this hideous hour to sit with you and your mates?"

"No, I'm serious," James replied, ignoring her sarcasm. "Your hair isn't red!"

"What do you mean my hair isn't red?" Lily snapped, more out of exhaustion than actual irritation. "I am a red head. My hair is not brown, or black, or blonde. My hair is _red_."

"Five galleons she dumps the pitcher of pumpkin juice on his head." Peter whispered over to Remus, who was playing with his porridge.

"Done." They shook on it.

"No, Lils," James shook his head, smiling sympathetically, "I'm sorry, but I really don't think that's true."

"Then pray tell," Lily pressed on, choosing to ignore the gambling going on at her expense, "What color _is_ my hair?"

"Well…" James shrugged sheepishly, "To be honest, I mean…this is just a personal opinion really, but I think it looks…well…like…it looks more…orange."

Stunned silence from the entire party. And then,

"_What?"_

Lily found herself leaning forward against the table, intrigued and frustrated all at once. James was looking apologetic, yet that goofy grin was slipping back on his face and she couldn't even tell if he was serious or not.

Sirius rolled his eyes and nudged Peter as James and Lily argued on. "Looks like our hopes for a peaceful breakfast among mates has just combusted. I'd say it's a new record in terms of timing, wouldn't you Wormtail? What time is it? Seven o three?"

It had been like this for Lily and James since the beginning of term, this routine of sitting together at breakfast and bickering about the most inane things. No one was sure where it had started or why. Most people couldn't even decide whether Lily Evans and James Potter were even dating yet, seeing as they spent half their time apart and the other half together, each driving the other completely crackers.

What most people didn't know was that the two of them driving each other crackers had usually turned into full frontal snogging by the end of the day. Not that this was particularly important at this moment in time.

"It's just…" James leaned forward and, still smiling, picked up a small strand of Lily's vibrant hair, twirling it around his finger as he spoke, "Your hair looks red sometimes, but then there's other times, when it's not red. Like, when you're standing in the sun, or when you're next to the fire place. You've got these really pretty gold highlights; I guess you could call them. And so, you can't possibly have red hair and yellow hair, can you? You, my dearest, have orange hair."

Lily wasn't really sure whether to be pissed or flattered (the usual when it came to conversations with James). She wasn't sure there had ever been a time during their relationship where she'd actually been legitimately mad at him for more then twenty seconds. There was just too much about him to like, to adore, to be attached to.

And it probably didn't help that he was kind of cute, as well.

James looked uncertainly at her, waiting for a reaction. Lily paused, mulling this all over, and then smiled.

"Orange, huh?" She grinned.

He smiled at her and leaned forward to peck her forehead (at which all the Marauders gagged), looking quite pleased with himself.

"You always know what to say to make my day, Potter." She said softly, blushing ever so lightly.

"As I should, Evans." He countered, winking at her as he helped himself to another biscuit.

Sirius, seated next to Lily, ceased his gagging to blurt, "So, if your hair is orange now, this means you're not a red head anymore, right?"

"It would seem so. What of it?"

The Marauder grinned, "Nothing. I've just never met an orange-head before."

Lily only paused to wink at James before dumping the entire contents of the pumpkin juice on Sirius' head.

"Cough up." Remus muttered to a defeated Peter, laughing quietly to himself as Lily turned back to her conversation with James, the two of them continuing their breakfast together.


	4. Purple

**Author's Note: I know it's been a while since I've posted anything, and I apologize hugely for that. I've recently joined the PULL project (in an effort to get my great procrastinating arse into gear, really), so updates should certainly more numerous and frequent. Please read and review and let me know what you think of this one!**

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"Remind me again why _I'm_ the one stirring, O genius of potions?" James asked conversationally, smiling at his potions partner and carelessly throwing some mandrake root into the cauldron before them, causing a part of the potion to slop out over the side and partner to sigh next to him.

"Because, it takes special skill to cut up and measure out the ingredients," Lily answered back calmly, "And we all know who possesses the skill in this duo."

James grumbled and continued stirring, asking moments later, "Remind me again what we're making?"

Lily wordlessly pointed at the blackboard, not taking her eyes off of the roots she was still cutting. Professor Slughorn had only just assigned the class an essay on the potion itself, and today assigned them the task of making an antidote to it. Lily glanced around the room at the other student's cauldrons (full of amortentia) to which they were supposed to add the correct amount of remedial ingredients to the potion's effect. Though some had managed to change the shade of the potion from a mother of pearl sheen to a pale pink, Lily was satisfied that only their cauldron seemed to be making real progress, now progressed from pale pink to a vibrant hue of violet.

The shade of purple was very pretty, and the smells coming forth from the potion (though not as strong as the original concoction) were still very pleasing to her. And it occurred to Lily that, while she was aware of her own observations when smelling the love potion, she was hardly aware of others. It was sort of interesting to her, finding out what others favored, what others preferred.

She glanced over at her boyfriend, regarding him silently before letting her inner inquirer get the best of her.

"What do you smell when you're standing near a cauldron of amortentia?" Lily asked curiously, pushing the now chopped up roots over to him and wiping a strand of hair out of her eyes.

"What?" He asked back, rather distracted as he added the roots and continued stirring the correct amount of counterclockwise turns.

"You know. The potion has a different affect on each person depending on what scent attracts them. So, what do you smell?"

James paused, stirring the potion thoughtfully and politely avoiding her gaze.

"I don't know." He murmured.

"Oh c'mon," she nudged his arm, "You already know what I smell."

James couldn't conceal his rather smug grin. Slughorn had of course seen fit to read the best written essay aloud, meaning that Lily's list of scents smelled while standing near amortentia were now known around the entire class. He seemed to find it highly entertaining that her referred scents were chocolate chip cookies, pine and the smell of his grey sweater.

However, he continued stirring the potion, concentrating on the deep purple hue as its eerie light cast a purple glow about the dungeons.

"To be honest," he said after half a minute of contemplation, flushing slightly, "I smell _you_."

Lily couldn't help but snort derisively. "Taking a blow at my personal hygiene are we?"

"No, no," James said, waving her joke away, "I mean I smell things that remind me of you, remind me of the things we've done."

"The things we've done?" She raised an eyebrow; curiosity truly peaked at this point. "What sorts of things?"

He paused, and then blushed slightly, that delightful shade of pink she'd come to adore. "Like….the strawberry ice cream we ate on our first date in Hogsmeade, and the laundry detergent you used to wash my Quidditch robes when I was sick in the hospital wing last week. I smell the rain that was falling that day you finally said yes when I asked you out for the millionth time. I smell that mint shampoo that lingers in your hair when you let it dry naturally…" He scratched the back of his neck, now looking quite embarrassed, "There's more I'm sure," he finished a little apologetically, "But that's all I've got right now."

Lily stared at him, lost for words. And then suddenly, as she stared at him over the bubbling purple potion, something in her just clicked into place. Like a light flicking on, it was if she'd never seen James properly before, even though she'd been seeing him just fine the past few months. The steady thrum of happiness that came from whenever he was around became an almost painful throb of euphoria that she'd never felt before in her entire life. She felt trapped, almost claustrophobic. The worst thing about all this was how he was not grinning cockily at her, how he was not laughing at her dumbstruck expression, nor was he glancing around to see if anyone else was watching and listening. He simply smiled to himself and turned back to the task at home. James so often added a joke or sarcastic quip to every sweet thing he said to Lily that she was floored whenever he was just genuinely sweet to her. But this was different somehow.

Lily wasn't sure whether it was a trick of that eerie purple light, or that she had simply inhaled too many potion fumes, but something seemed different about her boyfriend in that moment. In that singular moment, James Potter seemed to be almost glowing and pulsating with a life and warmth before her. The violet light of the potion moved over his face, accentuating his profile; the sharp line of his cheekbones, the straight edge of his nose. His glasses reflected the violet light and his eyes seemed to absorb the purple, making the splash of hazel surrounding his pupils more attractive and noticeable to her than ever. Even now, after months of getting to know him, she was surprised at how humbled he was by answering a simple question. She was expecting his answer to be surrounded with his usual joking innuendo, his casual winks, but none came. He'd answered her straight, his answer was honest, and—to her interpretation—all the more genuine.

It was as if, in one thirty second response, he'd completely winded her. He wasn't just the sweet boy who she's started dating a couple months ago anymore, she reasoned, staring at him as he prattled on about something she could not bring herself to care about. In fact, the only thing she seemed painfully aware of in that moment was how badly she wanted to hug James right now, how much she wanted to hug James, how much she wanted to show him she appreciated him.

"…and it says here to add Wormwood but won't that cancel out the armadillo bile completely?"

"I-what?" Lily flushed, tearing her gaze away from his face. She hadn't even realized he was talking to her.

He gave her one of those 'weren't you listening, Lil?' looks and repeated the question.

"There's enough bile to not be cancelled out." Lily reassured him, all the while attempting not to keep staring at him.

James bent over the cauldron once more, now openly grinning at her, "Dozing off, Lils?"

That purple light was playing on his face again, and the urge to leap across the desk at him was stronger than ever.

"Yeah," she replied faintly, as her stomach suddenly lurched at the sight of his smile. She bent over the cauldron too, now intent on finishing the antidote and receiving top marks once more, "Something like that."

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**A/N: Once again, please review and let me know what you think!**


	5. Red

**Author's Note: Written for Bookaholic711's PROJECT PULL. More updates to come! Read and review, please!**

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The hospital wing was quiet, especially for a bustling Tuesday morning. The normal occupants of the beds claiming to be 'sick' right as class started were absent from their normal cots, as Madam Pomfery had all kicked them out. The only occupants were Madam Pomfrey, and the lone patient she was attending to.

And instantly, the peace was shattered as the Hospital Wing doors swung open with a bang, and Lily Evans stalked into the room, her face white and her hair whipping about her face like tendrils of flame.

"Where is he?" Her voice rang about the room, causing Madam Pomfrey to frown indignantly.

"Now, Ms. Evans…" Madam Pomfrey began with a warning tone, but Lily walked in anyway, not saying a single word, even as Sirius and Remus trailed in behind her, wincing with each sharp step she took.

"Madam Pomfrey, what happened? I hadn't even finished lunch and _they_," she gestured furitively at Remus and Sirius, who winced again, "Told me that there had been a fight? That James had been involved?" Lily now began to pace. "Who did he hurt? Who did he humiliate? I am going to _kill him_."

"Ms. Evans," Madam Pomfrey said curtly, "You may be interested to know that Mr. Potter was actually the victim in this case, and not the culprit. Surprising, I am aware."

"The victim?" Lily's already pale face whitened even further. "Is he okay?"

"Well, that's the thing." Madam Pomfrey said, stepping aside so her patient was visible. "It's really quite hard to tell at this point."

Sirius swore loudly, Remus clutched a chair and Lily froze completely.

James was covered in blood. The sheets beneath his frame were soaked with a crimson stain, spreading thickly and slowly. Lily felt her breath catch in her throat and was only aware of Remus reaching out to steady her as her knees buckled beneath her. Never had she felt so lost for words, so unable to emote. Lily was quite the emotional person, very verbal in all her opinions and thoughts, but in that moment there was really nothing else to feel other than dread, sheer dread that clenched over her heart with an iron fist.

She raked her eyes over James, over the cuts that were slowly but surely being healed by Madam Pomfrey's wand. She followed the pattern of cuts to James' chest, which was moving (albeit unsteadily) with breath. He was still breathing. Thank Merlin. Finally able to feel a slight bubble of relief, Lily rounded on Sirius.

"What. Happened?" She asked through gritted teeth, more to steel herself than to direct anger.

"Snape." Sirius spat, looking just as relieved as Lily felt at James' breathing. "Right after Charms, James said he had to talk to him about something. Next thing I know, someone is screaming about a fight in the empty classroom, Snape is booking it out, and James is lying on the floor, bleeding."

Lily glanced again at James, suppressing a shudder. She'd seen wounds. She'd once gotten stitches on her lip after a rather unfortunate occurrence in the schoolyard playground as a child. But this was different. There wasn't anything glorified or gentle about it. The blood seemed to gush from James' open skin, and the sheets were growing increasingly ruby in hue. This wasn't a scrape, or a harmless injury.

This was horrifying.

"Do you know what curse hit him?" Lily asked sharply, more to gain control of herself than to seek an answer.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head worriedly. "No, I'm afraid I do not recognize it. Most spells cut one specific area of the body, but never all over like this."

"Will he be okay?" Lily hardly breathed to utter the words.

"There will be some scar tissue in some areas," Madam Pomfrey said gently, "But nothing permanently damaging. So, yes, Ms. Evans, Mr. Potter will recover."

Lily stayed frozen, her eyes fixed on Pomfrey as if convinced it was a lie, and then she simply deflated in her seat, fire and worry and tension seeping out of her. She felt like weeping, and then felt ridiculous for wanting to do so. He was ok. James was ok.

But she knew it was her fault, even as she watched the cuts continue to heal themselves. The blood still remained, even as the skin healed itself. Like wine on silk, or rose petals against fallen snow, James' blood contrasted eerily with the cotton sheets of the hospital bed. Lily wanted to wipe it off herself, get it out of her sight, but Madam Pomfrey would probably not appreciate it very much. So Lily stood there, watching James' red-streaked face as his breathing finally began to even out.

It was her fault. She knew what had provoked James to talk to Severus. She knew exactly why he would want to 'talk to' his sworn enemy since first year. Guilt, like nothing she'd experienced before, entered Lily's system, clenching her heart in an even tighter grip than the worry she'd felt previously.

It was just a suggestion she'd made the other night, a joke even. All she'd said was that James should try and at least get along with Severus. They didn't have to be bosom friends, nor did they need to Owl each other. But getting along would have been nice. For as much as she despised Sev for the way he'd ended up, she was almost positive he was still that insecure, but rather sweet boy she'd known in the early years of Hogwarts. It was a suggestion that James just try and come to a truce. She'd never expected he'd follow through on it, never expected him to actual be as noble and wonderful as she was joking he would be.

There were many things Lily was sure of. She was sure that her favorite food was strawberry waffles, that she was afraid of the dark, that she would never be a dancer or singer, and that some point between the summer and now, she had fallen in love with James Potter. She couldn't have seen that coming with a crystal ball, and it scared her how much it meant. Seeing him lying there on the cot, lifeless, smeared with his own blood, made her feel unstable and on the edge. It would have been different if it were Sirius or her other friends. She would still have been worried, still have sagged with relief when they were alright, but James was so much more to her than just a friend. He was very much the cause of much of her happiness these days, and very much the first thing she thought of when waking. And knowing that she'd done this, knowing that it was her fault he now lay there unconscious, made her feel more horrible and disgusted with herself than she ever had in her life.

In that moment, Lily Evans made a promise to herself. She would never ever put someone she loved in danger like that again. She should have known it was no use trying to get Sev and James to get along.

The last of the gashes in James' skin sealed themselves, and Madam Pomfrey sighed heavily. "He'll be alright. But it will be a while before he wakes up. Perhaps you should go to class?"

"No." Lily said fiercely. "I'm not leaving until he does wake up."

And so the red head sat, stubbornly, refusing to move. Madam Pomfrey simply tsked distastefully and swept out of the room. Lily remained still, watching James quietly and thinking to herself. Then, ignoring the watchful gazes of Sirius and Remus, she took her wand out muttering spell under her breath and siphoning the blood off of James. She couldn't stand to look at it anymore. It made her nearly sick. The amount of red around his body began to diminish, and eventually it was gone.

But still remaining was the resolution, as permanent as the blood stains on the bed sheets. No one she cared about would be hurt again because of her. Never again.


	6. Green

**Author's Note: Written for Bookaholic711's project PULL. Merry Christmas Everyone! Please read and review!**

* * *

"Keep your eyes closed."

"James, how in the hell am I supposed to see your gift if you have me closing my eyes…" Lily whined, nevertheless covering her eyes.

It was two in the morning, quite the long day for one red headed witch. Somehow, the task of turning eighteen didn't just mean all fun and games, especially when things such as numerous essays and head girl duties came into play. Exhausted, Lily had only just finished the last of her homework assigned on her birthday. The embers in the fire place had died out, and the common room was empty save for her and James, who had come stumbling through the portrait hole only seconds previous and demanded that she close her eyes at once.

"You do know that your birthday gift is a little late, James?" Lily smirked. "I wasn't expecting anything once is got to dinner and you hadn't all but wished me one happy birthday. Where were you all day?"

"I was down in the kitchens and—don't you dare peek, Evans-," he snapped sternly, "I was making your birthday present. Leave it to me to literally take all day to get it ready."

"So, I'm guessing it's ready now?" Lily asked, trying to peek again and cracking up as James threw a couch cushion at her face.

"Yes," his voice sounded concentrated, "It's ready."

"So I can open my eyes now?"

An exasperated sigh, the sound of him running his hand through his hair. "Alright, Eager Beaver. Open."

And so Eager Beaver did just that.

"You just had to make a green birthday cake, didn't you, James?" Lily laughed after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

"Can you blame me?" He grinned, sitting across from her.

The cake was a pale pastel green; a sea green. And the icing making up the 'Happy Birthday Lily' message was a darker green, weaving over the surface like vines in James' rather loopy cursive. The base of the cake was decorated with a bunch of little jade colored roses with petals opening and closing slowly with a small charm. The cake was covered with eighteen small candles, each one emitting green sparks along with a small yellow flame.

Lily looked over the cake at James, "Green?"

James puffed his chest out rather proudly. "Your favorite color."

"No," she shook her head, "Yours."

And it was true. After months of begging, James had revealed that his very favorite color was green. When she asked why, he blushed and muttered something about random choosing. But Lily, as usual, tended to know better.

"Well, yeah," He shrugged sheepishly, "But really, I picked the color that would complement you as you ate it, really. With your eyes and whatnot."

"Thank Merlin for your astounding color coordination skills." She sighed dramatically. He smiled again and, looking over the faint candlelight at him, that familiar feeling of overwhelming warmth and affection flooded her system, and she suddenly cared no more for the cake.

He smiled at her. "Make a wish, Lil."

Lily closed her own green eyes and made the wish, not even bothering stop and consider her choice. She knew exactly what she wanted in that moment.

She blew out the candles with one breath, and James applauded and hooted loudly for all the empty common room to hear.

They ate the cake in silence, legs crossed, a fork in each hand, gradually chipping away at the sweet, green mound sitting between them. Lily was amazed at how well James had managed the cake, and wondered vaguely how many house elves it had taken to help him get it just right; she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and not ask.

The cake was delicious, and Lily began to realize that the icing was such an intense green that it dyed her lips and tongue; James' as well. When he grinned at her, his teeth were a rather hideous shade of green and she snorted, nearly choking on a mouthful of cake. Their laughter bounced off the walls of the common room, fueling that giddy feeling growing throughout her body.

"C'mere," he said slyly, scooting closer to her with his usual air of casualty, "You've got some icing…"

He reached over to the corner of her mouth and wiped it off slowly with his thumb. She felt the warmth of his hand against her cheek and leaned into it, his eyes twinkled as he smiled slightly.

"Happy Birthday, Lily."

She was about to point out that technically, her birthday had ended a few hours back, but then his lips were on hers, and the comment was quickly forgotten. He pushed aside the cake and forks with a shove and closed any distance there may have been between the two of them, his green-tinted lips on her own. His hands gently cradled the back of her head as he leaned her against the couch. He tasted like icing, and that combined with the pressure of his lips on her own made her nearly dizzy.

Something that blew Lily's mind always was how easy it was for James to make her heart race or her head spin. The whole 'familiarity' thing her friends told her would happen after the honeymoon period of their dating did not happen. She was still rendered senseless every time James' lips came anywhere near her own. And really, who could blame her? James was just one of those people with a knack for surprising, for upending, for rendering senseless. Not that she was spending much time pondering this at the moment, being far to occupied for any sort of rational thought.

"Hm." She murmured some time later. "What do you know? My wish came true."

"Amazing what can happen when you put your mind to it." He murmured back, brushing some hair out o f her face and tucking it behind her ear. "Now please shut up, so I can perpetuate the wish you so graciously made."

He kissed her again, that sweet taste of his mouth now lingering in her mouth.

And perpetuate the wish they did.


	7. Black

**Author's Note: I was trying to think of a scene I could do for black. Originally, this chapter was going to be comical, but I decided to play up the more serious factor. A lot of us don't realize how much past history with another person can matter, despite that we say it won't. Well, this chapter is about Lily and James dealing with their history. **

**Written for Bookaholic711's project: PULL. See her profile for more info. Please read and review!**

* * *

Lily Evans never considered herself one of rational thought when it came to James Potter. Hell, she never considered anything rational when James Potter was concerned. Her life was an orderly place before he came stumbling him, her emotions easy to comprehend, her actions deliberate and well planned out. There was no spontaneity, no leaping before looking, and certainly no rash actions.

But James, being the force of nature that he was, was changing that. He was such a blend of his own dim witted decisions and emotionally based reactions that dating him without adapting those traits was impossible. She'd opt to skip a class when James slyly asked if she was up for a mad dash to the kitchens. She'd occasionally try flying on a broom when James promised to not let go of her as they kicked off and soared over the stands. She'd done things without thinking, said things without wondering how they'd sound aloud, and reacted emotionally than she ever had in her life.

It was normal, she'd told herself.

But now, it was most definitely out of control.

Rage rolled off of Lily in sharp waves as she stalked out of the library. Rage and satisfaction and guilt rolled all in one. She didn't look to see where she was going as she stalked down corridor after corridor, firmly ignoring the calls of her name echoing after her. He didn't deserve her hearing him call. There was no hearing in a state like this. She was hurt. She was hurt, and offended and irritated, so she had done the 'James' thing and reacted. Gone with her gut, no questions asked.

But for Merlin's sake, she hadn't meant to hit him that _hard._

She remembered with a horrifying smug feeling the look on his face when she'd cocked her fist back and simply swung. She remembered the fury coursing through her the before and as she punched him.

And she felt the guilt, because she knew she shouldn't have done it.

It simply baffled her, how easy it was for him to rile her up. It was like he was born to annoy her, born to get under her skin. It was a miracle they hadn't killed each other by this point.

What had they even been fighting about?

Lily stopped, and paused.

And she remembered how much she really hated having history with someone.

That was the problem with James and her. Despite the fact that they got along now famously, there were a lot of reminders of how famously they didn't get along in the past. It was hard to have a relationship with someone when there was so much baggage from the past, so much built up anger and jealousy and misunderstanding. It made Lily dizzy to think about it. What sucked most was how hard it was to avoid. One minute their talking about how Lily is a teacher's pet, next thing they're shouting on how nothing has changed and they're still the same. He's still an arrogant prick and she's still a stuck up bitch.

Only today did she decide to actually react to his remark.

But Lily knew he didn't really think that. Just like she didn't think he was still an arrogant prick. But she liked this, she liked feeling angry and driven and completely violent right now.

Lily remained standing, waiting as a silent battle waged in her head as emotion fought reason.

But somehow, the reason triumphed. It always did in the end with her.

Sighing, Lily trudged back up the corridor from where she came, hitching her back on her shoulder and preparing herself for what may or may not be another fight.

But when she didn't find James in the library, or in any of the other corridors, she called it quits and returned to the common room. And it was there that she found James sprawled on the couch, easing a bag of ice onto one side of his face and wincing painfully. His glasses were pushed up into his hair and his school bag was spilled at his feet.

It was such an oddly comical scene that Lily would have laughed if she felt cheery in the least.

He knew she'd entered. There was no mistaking the line tension that ran from the set of his jaw to the tips of his toes. Whether or not he had decided to ignore her did not matter, for she went and sat next to him anyway, wordlessly forcing him to scoot over. He didn't fight her.

"Can I see it?" She asked softly; face calm but voice oddly tight.

James removed the bag of ice unceremoniously and Lily had to fight back the urge to utter a thousand apologies at once and attempt to kiss it better.

Though it had only been ten or fifteen minutes previously that she had punched him, James now bore a rather small but prominent splotch around his right eye, the blood already bruised enough that it had begun to turn black against his skin, and his eye had swollen shut. Not as black as the sky outside or the coals in the fire, but enough that it made Lily's guilt swell to choking proportions.

"Let it be said that Lily Evans is no novice in the art of the upper right hook." James joked feebly, probably aching to break the silence.

Maybe it was the badly timed humor, or just the color of his skin at the moment, but whatever it was made Lily's calm resolve crumble. She automatically curled up against James' chest, leaning against his heart and listening to that steady thump thump that never stopped being a comfort. James' hand immediately went to the task of skimming through her hair.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his heart. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think. We were both yelling and I was just so mad and I…"

"Reacted."

"Yeah."

He didn't respond, and his hand had stopped moving through her hair.

"Do you think it'll ever get any easier?" He asked conversationally, as if they were not already treading in deep waters, "Being us, even after all the shit we've been through?"

Lily glanced again at the bruise on his eye, now almost onyx in its hue and rather mocking in own existence.

"There's no telling." She sighed. "We'll just have to work through it whenever it comes up. And not act rashly. We're not kids anymore, James. No one is going to give us a detention if we do stupid things and say stupid things. We've got to deal with it ourselves."

"I suppose." He murmurs, fingers once again moving through her hair.

"I'm sorry, too." James says a few moments later.

And there was no doubt in Lily's mind that it was true.


	8. Yellow

**Author's Note: This chapter has more of an emphasis on the 'rated T' notation. If you have a problem with situations involving a certain S word that rhymes with Necks (*gasp*), then I suggest you skip this. But don't worry, nothing about this chapter is extremely explicit. No worries, lovely readers.**

**Written for Bookaholic711's Project PULL, which is a boatload of fun!**

**P.S.- SUPER AWESOME PLAYLIST FOR THIS CHAPTER! (listen to these songs while reading for further literary enjoyment)**

**Say Anything- Alive with the Glory of Love**

**Tegan and Sarah- I know I know I know**

**Something Happens- Momentary Thing**

* * *

Sometimes, it really blew Lily's mind how easy it was to get distracted when a certain messy haired boy came into play.

For Merlin's sake, they'd only just been studying Transfiguration moments earlier, books and quills spread across James' four poster as they prepped for one of many exams arriving in just a few weeks. James had been moaning about the pains of actually having to work for once, and Lily was muttering repeated incantations under her breath in hopes of memorizing them. And then somehow, just somehow, they'd ended up talking, then joking, then kissing.

And it all went downhill from there, in Lily's opinion.

Because kissing, as she was beginning to learn, was quite a dangerous thing. Kissing lead to more kissing, usually with increased passion and fervor. And then increased passion and fervor lead to gasping for air, to lying back on the bed and to the removal of a rather significant amount of clothing.

And it wasn't like they hadn't done this before. But as it got closer and closer to what Lily had so deemed 'the real deal', she found the real danger here being the fact that she didn't want to stop.

Lily knew she could stop, should stop, and she'd stopped this sort of thing at least a dozen times previously. But it felt too damn good. For in that moment James' hands were skimming down her bare sides and his mouth was on that one spot at the base of her neck and she swore to god she could hear angels singing as he slowly but urgently tugged at her skirt and all of it was making her head swim and her breathing go completely shallow. She could only grip at his bare shoulders, trying to pull him closer, and contemplate how long it would take to undo the belt on his jeans.

Her personal paradise was cut quite short as James lips ceased their ministrations at her neck and he let go of her entirely (her aforementioned skirt now tossed somewhere across the room).

She raised her head to find that James had propped himself up, looking down at her. Or, to be more specific, at her underwear.

Lily glanced down and suddenly winced. Shit. This wasn't good. Not good at all.

Of all the days that she had chosen to wear her yellow underwear, today just had to be one of them.

It was often common for Lily to blame others for getting her into these sorts of utterly humiliating situations. But not today. Nope, this was her fault. Hers entirely.

What had she been thinking, putting those on? That they were cute? That they were attractive in any way, shape or form? They weren't lacy, or frilly, or even remotely sexy. They were just a simple pair of yellow cotton briefs with a tiny little bow on the top seam.

And if anything screamed "Hello, I'm an innocent virgin" more than the words themselves, it was a pair of sunshine colored knickers with a matching bra. The egg-yolk colored bow probably didn't help much either.

Lily glanced at James, whose gaze was stilled and rather impossible to read as always.

"What is it?" She asked rather breathlessly, her body still flushed with the heat of ardor.

"Your knickers are yellow." He muttered, always the discoverer of the obvious.

"And?" She prompted, raising a rather questioning brow.

He propped himself on his shoulders, staring down at her, and suddenly, Lily felt very exposed and all too embarrassed sitting in front of him in her knickers. Strange it was, because they'd been in this sort of situation before that involved the removing of clothing. True, they'd never gone this far. It was sort of a game with them during some of their hotter and heavier make out sessions. Go a little further, see who would chicken or balk first. James—ever the gentleman—was always very cautious of never overstepping Lily's comfort zone. In fact, his constant's "Is this too far?" or "Should we stop?"s all but drove her mad. Lily wasn't a prude. And while she may not have been ready to go all the way, she could certainly venture a little closer than 'halfway there'.

"Do you not like the color yellow?" Lily asked almost sympathetically, then smiling rather devilishly, fishing for a way to save them both from the awkwardness, "Cause you could always take them off if you wanted…"

Instead of smiling or groaning enthusiastically and leaning in for another kiss, James actually flinched.

"I'm sorry." He suddenly sighed, rolling off of her and sitting up, putting his head in his hands. "I can't do this."

Air rushed in to replace where his body was, and Lily suddenly felt cold and even more exposed. A steady flush of embarrassment crept up her cheeks, and she hurriedly grabbed her shirt and began to tug it over her arms, all the while cursing herself as she did the buttons the wrong way.

"Did I do something wrong?" She asked rather waspishly, her irritation at herself getting the better of her. She couldn't help it. Above all things, her biggest insecurity was her inexperience at this. At physical intimacy. And where she was inexperienced, her boyfriend was quite the opposite. Lily wasn't stupid. She knew from the casual Hogwarts Bathroom Gossip that James was no novice in anything related to sex, while she was exactly that; a novice. But up until that moment, she didn't think it had mattered. She didn't think that any of her innocence mattered to James. But apparently she was sorely mistaken.

James blinked confusedly, now staring at her.

"What?"

"Is it because I'm not experienced enough?" Lily asked, no softly, completely unable to look him in the eye now that her own fear was out there in the open.

"What? No—I—"

"Or is it because you don't want me?" It was now that Lily's eyes glittered with tears, and she was suddenly ashamed of herself.

"Lily." James scooted next to her, and before she knew it, he had scooped her up and sat her on his lap, his bare chest pressed to her back. "How could you think that? After all this shit we've been through? You honestly think I could not want you? After nearly six years of pursuing you? Are you _mad_?"

Lily let out a watery laugh to cover up an even more humiliated sob. "Then what is it? Why can't you do this?"

James sighed, shaking his head. "You're going to laugh."

"Better than thinking I'm completely screwing this up myself."

"I wanted to, Lily. I just…you were lying there, in your knickers, and….Merlin, I'd be mad if I didn't want you, Lils. But I…"

James mumbled something else completely incoherent.

"Come again?"

"It didn't feel right. Us having sex, I mean. I think we should wait."

A pause. Lily's curious expression eased into one of thought. James looked uneasily at her, his eyes shifting from her face to her rather exposed body and then back to her face with hasty embarrassment.

"Call me crazy, call me a romantic, but…Lily, I just feel like our first time should be…better than this. Not while lying on," he reached behind her and plucked a book off the sheep, "A copy of Transfiguration for Trolls. And it's not because I don't want you, Lil, or don't find you attractive. To be honest," he let out a husky laugh, smiling now, "I cannot think of a single thing I find sexier than you right now. But it's not the right time. We're not ready. Or, at least, I'm not ready. We'd do it, and then regret it. I think we should wait until we're ready. "

"But you've done it with tons of girls." Lily pointed out, more out of spite then out of argument's sake.

"Lily, all the girls of Hogwarts put together could not hold a candle to you." James answered her firmly, not even looking slightly embarrassed as he said this. "Haven't I told you this by now? You're not some fling. You're not some girl that I won't consider every decision with carefully. Do you think I would have asked you out for so many years if you were just some girl with a pretty smile? Cause you're not just a girl, Lil."

Lily lapsed into another thoughtful silence. He had once again stolen all sentimental and rational thought from her head with his sweet disposition. So she dealt with her blown mind by compensating with humor, rounding on him with a rather cheeky grin. "You deduced all of that just by looking at a pair of yellow knickers?"

James let out a hoarse bark of laughter and leaned his head against her shoulder, kissing the skin just at her collar bone. "Call it an epiphany of sorts."

"Leave it to James Potter to be brought to an epiphany by the sight of his girlfriend's unmentionables." Lily replied wryly, reaching up and running her fingers through his rather mussed hair. She didn't have much to say in the sentimental department. What could a girl say to a bloke who was being sweet and respectful and loving all in one? What could you do when shagging was absolutely out of the question at this point?

"Believe it or not, Lily, the sight of you almost naked can make a bloke quite speechless." James replied, lifting his head. "You may not think so, but it's true. And whether or not you've got no experience is of no consequence to me. Believe me when I say that how undeniably sexy you are to me has nothing whatsoever to do with your yellow knickers."

Lily sighed, giving up on trying to fight the blush leaping across her face. "You know, you're not making it very easy to remember that now is not the right time for debauchery."

James grinned back, tipping her chin up towards him with a single finger. "Sorry. I forgot to turn that damn Potter charm off."

He kissed her slowly and lazily, leveling the earlier heat and intensity as he re-buttoned her shirt and slowly lifted her off of his lap with a groan of regret. "You should probably leave, before I change my mind."

Lily slid her skirt back up her legs and picked her book bag up, smiling at him. "You sure I should go?"

"Yes. Now. Before I kill myself. Or you. Or just ravish you. Neither will be pretty." James sighed, dragging his hand across his eyes and flopping back onto the bed.

Lily laughed and began to walk towards the door, but then paused; turning to look at the man sprawled on his bed, glasses pushed back on his forehead, looking exhausted, but still smiling. She walked back, leaned over an upside down James Potter and kissed him once more, sweetly. His eyes opened in surprise and he groaned again.

"Oy, vixen, enough is enough." He growled.

Lily ignored the jibe and simply whispered, "Thank you," just loud enough for him to hear.

And then she skipped out of the dorm, leaving James alone to smother himself with a pillow in his bout of hormonal teenage angst.

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**A/N: Please please please read and review!**


	9. Silver

**Author's Note: This is dedicated to the lovliest anonymous reviewer in the world, who reviewed this story and said nice things and made me want to write again. I wish I could shake her hand and give her waffles, because she accomplished quite the feat.**

**So, here you go, dear Anon. It's choppy and sappy at best, but an attempt. We'll see what I come up with next, yeah? Read and review, pretty please. :)**

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It was so terribly dark. There was no way of knowing right from left, or up from down. Lily hurtled through the suffocating black of the night, her cheast heaving with breath as she swung around a tree. James had told her to run, but why hadn't she stayed close to him? Worry tightened her stomach and tears swam to her eyes as she realized she didn't know where James had run off to. She traced along the path of her memory, recalling how James was holding her hand as they walked through Hogsmeade, telling her some funny joke or another, and then suddenly had shoved her behind him, and was telling her to run as fast as she could. She'd never James looked so scared, his face white as her told her urgently to run, that he would hold them off. She remembered looking past his shoulder and seeing the hooded figures gliding towards them, though as to why dementors had come to Hogsmeade she had no clue. But she did as she was told and had run, away from the path, away from the screaming people and cries of misery.

And now she stood on the edge of the forest, sucking in air as if she were drowning, shaking, and waiting with bated breath to know if James was alright. She shouldn't have been so stupid and cowardly, running like that. And she called herself a Gryffindor? There was no words that could describe the jumbled feelings of shame and worry and fear that were rising up in her rib cage in a tumultuous wave hysteria.

And then suddenly, everything went cold.

Lily suddenly found the air she was gasping for tinged with ice, and breathing that air in no longer sent relief to her lungs. A chill swept over her as if she had been doused in the Black Lake. The leaves on the branches above her head turned hard with frost, and what moonlight had been left in the sky snuffed out like a candle.

The dementor drifted over to her slowly, taking its time, and as Lily struggled to breathe, to feel warmth again, she couldn't even move. And suddenly, her worst fears and memories were swelling up before her; the time she got lost in the city and couldn't find her parents for hours, Petunia calling her a freak all those years, her Grandmother dying from cancer, Lily saw it all. And as she stood there, woe and helplessness encasing her heart, Lily Evans felt as if she would never breathe again.

Then out of nowhere, came a shout, a voice that suddenly shoved all that choking feeling in her stomach out of her and replaced it with something warm and alive.

"Lily!" The voice shouted.

A silver light erupted out of the darkness, knocking the dementor sideways and flooding Lily with such warmth that all the cold around her vanished. She watched, transfixed, as a brilliant silver stag galloped through the woods, charging at the dementor. It was brilliant, the patronus, corporeal and strong and like nothing Lily had ever seen. She'd only managed to produce one once in class, not facing an actual dementor. And even then, her small silver doe paled in comparison to the beast that tossed the dementor to the side with a swipe of it's antlers. Lily sagged against the tree in relief as the dementor swooped off into the distance, the stag disappearing after it.

Breath seeped into her lungs again as Lily clung to the trunk of the tree, attempting to hold herself upwards.

"Lily?"

And then James was there, his warm and calloused hands holding her cheeks that were streaming with tears she couldn't begin to understand where they came from, his lips in her hair as he whispered that it was going to be okay, that she was okay. He pulled her against him, wrapping his arms around her as if that alone would protect her from the jarring feeling that was shaking her entire core. Lily felt embarrassed and stupid, having not been able to handle the dementor herself. It wasn't like her to be the damsel in distress, but she was so worn out that she couldn't seem to care. Warmth and life was creeping back into her, happiness. She clung to James, even as she became aware of shouts in the distance, no doubt their friends seeing if they were alright.

James held her, and they stood together at the foot of the Forbidden forsest. It wasn't until the silver light had vanished completely that Lily realized that the dark wasn't so dark when James was around.


	10. Blue

**Author's Note: I honestly can't explain where the hell this story has been for the last year or so. But this is dedicated to you, who reviewed this story and sent me messages even when I had all but given up on writing. I don't know what happened to me this past year, but suddenly, a few weeks ago, I woke up and I needed to write so badly my hands were shaking. And just this evening I was perusing my documents and came upon this.**

**All apologies below in fiction form. Thanks to all of you who messaged me and reviewed this story and were so touched by these little moments. It means more to me than you will ever know. I hope I can continue to give you words.**

**xoxo,**

**Fiery**

**p.s.- reading playlist: parachutes, by Coldplay**

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The first thing Lily Evans notices upon waking is that the sheets are blue. It's an odd thing to notice at first, and were it any other day and were she any less groggy she may have noticed that her mouth tastes like parchment or that her ear is itching. But Lily Evans wakes up and she notices the sheets are a lovely shade of blue. A soft, cottony, decidedly-not-the-sheets-she-would-know-as-the-sheets-on-her-own-bed blue.

A few seconds later she notices the naked boy lying next to her in them.

Oh. _Oh._

Lily fiddles with the sheets because that's easier to cope with than the naked boy in her bed. The naked boy who is warm and pressed against her own naked body (good Merlin why had it taken her so long to notice _that?). _The naked boy who is smiling at her and she feels the goddamn sun behind his smile and Merlin she feels so naked, even wrapped in these blankets.

It's not that Lily regrets the naked boy in her bed. Nor does she regret the process that led to the naked boy ending up in her bed. Lily's no prude, and it's not like she hasn't been practically keyed up just thinking about said naked boy for months now. It's not the presence of the naked boy and these sky blue sheets that scares her.

It's the meaning of them.

"Hey."

His voice all but shatters the peace pounding in her head, even as she avoids his sleepy eyed gaze and fiddles with those cerulean sheets.

His arm slowly slips around her waist, as if he's already aware of the pensive train of thought turning her stomach to knots. Lily's always been one to overanalyze, and he is anything if hyperaware of Lily's ability to over think. Or in this case, over feel.

Because Lily feels. She feels so much in that moment, tangled in those baby blue sheets with a boy who five years ago she would never have given a second thought. She feels the warmth of his body as he sits up next to her. Feels the thrum of his pulse as she unconsciously leans into his chest. She feels the soft cotton of the sheets. Feels the sunlight streaming in the window and spilling onto her freckled shoulders. She feels a wave of emotion stronger than the one she felt last night amidst the unbuttoning of blouses and the whisper soft brushes of fingertips across skin and the tentative "Are you sure?" spoken in between desperate and keening kisses.

Lily feels a lot. Because this…this bed, these sheets, these feelings, this _boy_…

They're a big fucking deal.

"Tell me what you're thinking." James whispers lightly, and he's being so careful with his words that Lily wants to cry because he's always so gentle, so understanding, so aware of her that she feels as if it was pointless to ever resist this idiot.

_Tell me what you're thinking_.

Lily considers for a moment the feeling in her rib cage, like a balloon so full of helium she's afraid it might burst and leave her horribly broken. She considers the forget-me-not pattern on those blue sheets and she considers the fact that she's a little sore, though not in a bad way at all.

"James." She doesn't know why they're whispering. The bedroom they're in (one of the many in the Potter mansion) is far away from the rest of the house. James' parents are gone for the weekend. There's no one within a good five mile radius.

"Lily." He looks a little more alert now, a little more cautious. And his thumb is rubbing circles on the small of her back and she sighs with the realization of how utterly _happy_ she is. And the realization of how she should probably tell him that.

"This…us…this means something to me." Lily replies slowly, turning in the sheets to face him and gaining in speed as she continues. The covers shift and fall away from her body just slightly, she doesn't bother to cover up. "I know we're not exactly just a fling but what happened last night…that's not. I'm not. This matters. You matter. And I know I joke about leaving you and running off with Remus because he's much smarter, or Sirius because he's a lot better looking, but you need to know—"

"Get to the point Evans." James is grinning again, and Lily is blushing and feeling like an idiot because now she's rambling and she doesn't want to ramble. She wants him to understand. She wants to explain away this warmth sitting in her limbs and how it's all but suffocating her and she's perfectly okay with that.

"So impatient." She huffs. James always needs a little bit of humor here and there. It would probably kill the poor bloke to be serious for more than five seconds.

"Tell me I'm not justified for being impatient when you're sitting in front of me naked, I dare you." His grin is infectious.

She rolls her eyes and sighs. "Only you could completely botch up my attempt to say I love you."

"I—_what?_"

James face is utterly delightful and so shocked and now Lily is the one biting back a grin.

"Did you just say you love me, Lily?"

He's smiling at her, but she can tell from the softness of his eyes and the way he's biting his lip that he sees the gravity of this moment just as much as she does. That even though they're naked and just a little bit wrecked from a night of rather enthusiastic debauchery and he's a hormonal goofy teenage boy, Lily can see James looking at her and knows that his whole world is hinging on this moment. And it makes her feel a little bit braver, a little bit safer, because hers is too. Last night was a big deal. Last night was personal and raw and vulnerable and wonderful.

But this, right here, is the crux.

Her lips meet his in a surge and it's a dry, brief kiss that tastes like sleep and promise and blue cotton sheets.

Then Lily punches James on the shoulder and says "Of course I love you, you idiot. I'm amazed it took you this long to come around to figure that out." She feels so light, like she could simply float away without a care. There's a part of her common sense telling her that there's no way this can last. That she's a muggle born and he's a pure blood and they're so vastly different from one another that this could never work. But there's a larger part of her that really couldn't care less.

James nearly chokes on his indignance. "It took me seven years to get you agree to go on a date with me! How was I supposed to know it wouldn't take another seven to get an actual confession of affection!?"

She punches him again and he tackles her and tickles her and together they dissolve into laughter and a tent of blue sheets and kisses.

And if Lily hears the chuckled "I love you. Always loved you, you loony bint", she decides it's in her best interest to not take the mickey out of James for it.

Just this once.


End file.
